So now that I’d been told of the dilemma, I set about figuring out how I would treat it. Well I say ‘I’, but it became clear from the start that my input more or less involved trying to eat as much as I could (I lost my appetite pretty quickly), collecting up the bits of hair that fell out (and, I admit, pulled out on occasion – I thought it was hilarious upsetting my mum by doing it) and downing various liquid medicines.
Apart from one that is, a tablet by the name of Atra. Now apologies if that isn’t the correct way to spell it (I’m sure any medical professionals reading this would be enraged) but to be blunt I couldn’t give a dog’s doodah – an expression lessened for our younger viewers. And the reason for this was due to it being absolutely, monumentally, lip smackingly vile. Now I know I didn’t do myself any favours. I gagged every time I tried to have tablets, which left me with two options, to have it in liquid form or to crunch.
And boy did I crunch, and chew, and grind, and then crunch some more. Atra ended up being the devil’s Kinder Egg – it had a lovely surprise within it (!). No toy but what tasted like motor oil. It was all gloopy and sticky and would stay on your teeth for days. Of course the adults in the room were ever helpful and said: “Well if you just swallowed it whole, then it wouldn’t taste so bad”.
My dear readers, there is no situation where that is an acceptable answer to anything (or so I have heard). What was funny was that this was part of my first round of treatment.